


Roll In The Hay

by aterribleinfluence



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Country AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 22:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14174688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aterribleinfluence/pseuds/aterribleinfluence
Summary: “These summer storms can be unpredictable,” he said. “We could be stuck here for a while.”She smiled at him. “We’ll just have to think of some way to pass the time.”From the kabby kink meme, the prompt was: Country AU: fucking in the barn during a storm





	Roll In The Hay

* * *

 

 

They were lucky, in a way, that they weren’t too far from the barn when the rain hit.

It wasn’t ideal, perhaps, but it had four walls and a roof, which made it preferable to the calamitous downpour outside. The wind was picking up as well, and so it was lucky too, Marcus supposed, that the barn was still piled high with bales of hay, which kept most of the draughts from coming through the slightly worse-for-wear wooden walls.

Still, aside from the hay there wasn’t much else. A door that closed and could be barred behind them against the wind. A couple of old stalls that hadn’t held any animals for years, so at least the smell inside the barn was inoffensive; just the dry, vegetable scent of hay.

“Urgh,” said Abby, from beside him. “I’m _soaked._ ”

“Me too.”

Even though it was technically daylight, with the storm overhead it was fairly dark inside the barn, so Marcus turned on the battery operated safety lamp hanging by the door. It filled the vast space with a warm yellow light that might even have been cosy, under other circumstances.

They had barely been caught in the rain for five minutes as they dashed madly to the barn, but both his clothes and his hair were dripping wet. He shook his head vigorously, unthinking, and a few feet away, Abby squealed as she was splattered with little drops of water.

“Marcus!”

“Sorry.”

“You’re like gigantic dog.”

Not exactly the best compliment he’d ever been given, but his retort died on his lips as he turned to look at her.

He swallowed hard.

_Jesus._

Abby had stripped off the plaid shirt that she hadn’t bothered to button up, and the little white tank top underneath that had been driving him crazy all day was soaked through. It clung almost transparently to her skin, and Marcus could plainly see her bra beneath it. It was _red._ There was the faint suggestion of lace.

Trying to ignore the surging lust that suddenly flooded his body, Marcus turned away, pretending to examine the lamp. He could see, out of the corner of his eye, Abby sitting on a hay bale to remove her shoes, wrinkling her nose at the sodden socks as she peeled them from her feet.

“You should pack your shoes with hay,” Marcus said, mainly to take his mind off the fact that Abby was apparently removing her clothing piece by piece. “It’ll help dry them out faster.”

Abby made a faint noise of affirmation, and then glanced over at him. “You should do yours too,” she smiled.

“Oh...right.”

Untying the laces of his boots and stripping off his wet socks was at least a distraction for a few minutes, though it felt weird to be standing on the hay strewn floor in his bare feet. The rain was really driving against the walls of the barn now, whipped up by the howling wind into a gale. Distantly, he heard the first deep rumble of thunder.

“Lincoln was right,” said Abby.

“Yeah.” Lincoln generally _was_ always right about this sort of thing, and he had predicted the sweltering July weather wouldn’t last. Marcus had agreed to set out on foot with Abby to the creek anyway because...well, because he found it hard to say no to her. She had a way of making him agree to bad ideas without even realising he’d done it. And there was little point in recriminating with her for not anticipating the sudden change in weather – this was her first summer here in Arkadia anyway, so she wouldn’t be used to it.

But no, he couldn’t let himself think like that. This wasn’t her ‘first’ anything. This would be her _only_ summer in Arkadia. He’d known that from the start. Sooner or later she would go back home. Nothing he could do to change it.

As Marcus had been taking off his shoes, Abby had been making herself as comfortable as possible sitting on the floor, resting her back up against a hay bale. She was still breathing a little hard from their run to shelter. She had laid her plaid shirt out on another nearby bale, he noticed, presumably to dry it faster as well. Good. The sooner she put the damn thing back on, the sooner _he_ could remember how to breathe again.

He sat down next to her at a careful distance; close enough to be casual, far enough away that he wouldn’t risk actually brushing against her in any way. Still he was exquisitely aware of her presence, warm and damp and barely dressed, beside him. When he risked looking at her, Abby was watching him, obviously having read something odd in the atmosphere between them.

“You’re gonna sit there in that wet shirt?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“It’ll dry soon enough,” Marcus said.

In truth, if he had been alone in here he would have just stripped off his t-shirt too and laid it out on the hay to dry – it was certainly warm enough in here. But there was no way he was going to start removing more clothing than absolutely necessary right now.

“These summer storms can be unpredictable,” he said. “We could be stuck here for a while.”

She smiled at him. “We’ll just have to think of some way to pass the time.”

Thinking of ways to pass the time was not currently Marcus’ problem. He could think of _plenty_ of ways to pass the time with Abby Griffin, and all of them were playing out in highly detailed images across his tortured imagination.

He shifted a little, hoping that the relatively low light hid the fact that his jeans were now uncomfortably tight. Luckily he was spared having to think of a response to her teasing as thunder crashed overhead and Abby let out a little squeak.

“You’re not afraid of thunder, are you?” asked Marcus.

“No, of course not,” said Abby. “It’s just usually a lot...further away, that’s all.”

He stared at her, genuinely surprised. He had seen this woman shove a dislocated shoulder back into joint without wincing. He had seen her risk her life to save the lives of horses she didn’t even know how to ride. He had even seen her stand toe-to-toe with Diana Sydney, a prospect that would shrink the heart of the toughest people in town. And yet this...this is what scared her.

Well, he guessed thunder was something Abby Griffin couldn’t control. Maybe that was it. She liked to be in control of her own destiny, did Abby. Marcus could understand that.

“You’re looking at me in that way again,” she said, with a smile.

“What way?”

“The way you looked at me after the fire that first week I arrived. Like you can’t figure me out.”

“Maybe I can’t.”

The frank honestly had slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. Abby looked, for a moment, almost disappointed. The expression was there and then gone again, and Marcus wondered if he’d imagined it.

“I’m not that mysterious, Marcus,” she said lightly. “You know all about me now. You know why I came here.”

That much was true, at least. He knew about her husband, about the hole that Jake had left in Abby’s family, in her heart. Time couldn’t fill it, so she had tried distance instead. That much made sense, in a way. Marcus could understand too the draw of Arkadia for her – the desire to get some closure on Jake’s death by returning to the place he had grown up. Why she wouldn’t want the ranch that had been in his family for generations to fail. And yet...

“You have a life back home in New York,” he said bluntly, staring out across the barn rather than risk looking at her. “A daughter, a career, friends, a house that isn’t falling apart...”

“I have friends here too, I hope.”

There was something almost vulnerable in her voice, behind the light-hearted tone, that cut Marcus to the bone.

“Of course you do,” he said though he sounded too gruff even to his own ears. “But this isn’t your home, Abby.” He sighed. “I know why you came out here,” he said. “I don’t know why you _stayed_.”

There was a long silence.

“Don’t you?”

Something in her voice made him turn, and his breath caught in his throat as he realised how _close_ she was now. She had all but closed the careful distance he had put between them. Marcus could see the faint hint of freckles on her nose that the sun had scattered on her skin over the summer. Her eyes were big and dark in the dim light.

She smiled at him, and there was something vulnerable in that too, something tentative and unsure that he had never seen in Abby before. Something that made Marcus unable to move or even speak as she leaned closer.

And then she kissed him.

Such a simple sentence, so stupidly inadequate to describe the moment that his whole life had been leading up to since the moment he was born. Later, Marcus could say ‘ _And then she kissed me’_ but he would never be able to find the words to describe that first moment of soft, sweet contact as Abby’s lips met his.

A force far more powerful than his common sense and all his doubts combined swept through his body, and Marcus sank into her kiss with a groan, pulling Abby roughly into his arms, kissing her back so fervently that he heard her make a soft sound of surprise as her lips parted beneath his. All of his senses were overwhelmed by her, and in a moment she was almost on top of him, pressing him back against the floor as she grasped his face, kissing and kissing and kissing him, their bodies entwining, lost in an urgent need for closeness.

The hay was dry and prickly, but Abby’s lips were _soft_ , and her body in his arms was _soft_ , every warm lush curve of her pressed against him in a way that was making him dizzy with desire. He devoured her hungrily, all self restraint thrown the wind as she moaned softly into his mouth, her hands threading eagerly into his hair.

He had no idea how long they spent like that, literally rolling in the hay, necking like teenagers, their bodies a tangle of limbs and clutching hands. His erection was back in full force; Marcus couldn’t help but moan as one of Abby’s slender thighs slipped between his legs, where it rubbed maddeningly against him exactly where he urgently needed friction, every time she moved.

“ _Abby_ ,” he gasped, and she squirmed a little against him, her hands sliding up under his cotton t-shirt, roaming over his skin. Marcus felt a soft shudder of pleasure run through his body. His heart was pounding violently in his chest, and when Abby’s hand slid over it, she paused, her palm flat against the frantic drumbeat.

“Hey...” she said softly, her eyes alight with playful affection. “Your heart is beating pretty fast there, Marcus. You’re not afraid of thunder, are you?”

Marcus recognised with a jolt the soft, throaty, affectionate voice she used with the horses, the one which had so inexplicably and embarrassingly turned him on when he had first heard her all those months ago. But now – just like in every dream he’d had about her – her firm, gentle hands were running over _his_ body, her eyes looking at _him_ with such tenderness, and something else too, something more...

Well. No woman ever looked at a horse that way, that’s for sure.

“I told you,” he said, and his own voice came out low and raspy, a little uneven. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

Abby flashed him a mischievous smile that sent a jolt of arousal right down his spine, and with a swift, decisive movement she grasped the material of his shirt and pulled it over his head, flinging it aside. Her hands skimmed down his body, leaving a trail of fire along his skin, to pop open the button of his jeans. When she slid one hand inside, the sudden realisation of what they were doing hit Marcus like a ton of bricks.

“Abby...” he said, desperately trying to keep his voice steady as she cupped the bulge of his erection through his underwear. “Do you...are you sure you want this?”

Abby actually laughed. “Marcus, I’ve wanted this since the moment I saw you.” She stroked him a little, smiling at the groan that tore from his throat. “Just because I’m not as... _obvious_ as you. Believe me, I really, _really_ want you right now.”

Marcus was slowly losing his mind at her touch, but he managed to gasp: “And tomorrow?”

“Mmm, I’m pretty sure I’ll want you tomorrow too. And the next day.” She leaned in close and nuzzled a kiss to his jawline. “Maybe twice on Tuesdays,” she said, her voice lively with humour.

It wasn’t exactly what he was asking, but Abby’s soft, wet little mouth was on his throat and her hand caressing him felt _so_ good, and he no longer had the strength to resist this.

She was half straddling him, had been taking the lead ever since she’d kissed him, but Marcus pushed upwards until she was sitting on his lap and pulled her white tank top roughly over her head. He took a certain amount of satisfaction in hurling the damn thing far across the barn – he’d have to find it later – and Abby grinned as though she had known all along how it had been driving him crazy. Maybe he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought these last few months. All those times he’d had to drag his eyes away from the tantalising glimpse of her cleavage...

He wasn’t dragging his eyes away now. He was going to take his goddamn _fill_ , and the soft swell of her gorgeous little breasts rising and falling inside the red lace of her bra was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. There was a faint scattering of freckles across her skin there too, and when Marcus raised a tentative hand to brush softly against the little constellation, Abby let out a faint gasp, and then giggled. She leaned in and kissed him firmly, then reached up behind her and pulled her ponytail loose, letting her hair fall in slightly damp waves around her shoulders.

“Your move, Kane,” she smiled, raising an eyebrow.

Marcus swallowed hard. The sight of her with her hair tumbling loose around her face, wearing nothing but that little red bra and those unbelievably tight jeans of hers, sent his pulse skyrocketing. Suddenly ‘desire’ seemed too weak a word for the force that swept through his body – raw, animal lust was pounding through his veins, and Marcus was consumed with the need to make Abby feel it as badly as he did.

He wrapped his hands around her slender waist and hoisted her onto the hay bale where she had laid out her shirt, kneeling between her legs. The shirt was likely still damp, but it was better than sitting on scratchy hay. She had wanted to be a country girl, after all – she could stand a little discomfort. And he intended to make it worth her while.

He pressed a kiss to her stomach, her smooth warm skin unimaginably soft against his lips, and then popped open the button of her jeans. Abby lifted her hips slightly, obviously anticipating what he wanted, allowing him to pull them down her legs and cast them aside. The wet material made it a longer task than he would have liked, but when he was done he was rewarded by the sight of Abby stripped down to her underwear, looking down at him with a pleased, slightly shy expression.

Her panties were red lace too. God help him. And though the rain hadn’t touched them, the thin material was soaked through. Marcus ran his fingertips lightly along the edge of the delicate lace, tracing her warm skin, and Abby quivered under his touch. Slowly, reverently, he hooked his fingers under the material and pulled it down her legs.

And there she was, perfect before him. Marcus let out a soft sigh of satisfaction, sending up a fervent prayer of thanks to whatever God might be listening that his life had led him to this. When he looked up at Abby, she was watching him with a tender look in her eyes, her face flushed pink and her teeth biting her lower lip a little in anticipation.

“I’ve wanted to do _this_ since the moment I saw you,” Marcus murmured, and then lowered his head to kiss her.

It was the closest thing to heaven he could imagine, running his tongue along the most intimate parts of her, breathing in the heady scent of her arousal, tasting her slick, quivering flesh, and judging by the increasingly high pitched whimpers she was making from somewhere above him, Marcus guessed Abby liked it fine too. He licked her and kissed her and nuzzled deeply into her, finding a rhythm that seemed to please her the most. It felt so _good_ to bring her pleasure like this; both filthy in its carnality and unspeakably intimate at the same time. Marcus felt a crude, possessive sense of satisfaction as she squirmed and clutched at his hair and gasped at his touch – _he_ was the one she wanted, _he_ was the one she trusted, _he_ was the one that could make her so wet...

Tired of teasing her and _excruciatingly_ hard now, Marcus grasped Abby’s hips gently to steady her and moved his attentions wholly to her clit. He sucked lightly on the stiff little nub, and smiled as Abby let out a sharp, breathy cry. He increased the intensity of his efforts, flicking and swirling with his tongue, focusing on her rising sounds of pleasure until she quivered violently; her fingers tightening their grip in his hair to the point of pain.

Marcus stroked her legs gently, running his hands up and down her thighs as Abby came against his mouth, shuddering like the walls of the barn buffeted by the howling gale outside, crying out in ecstatic delight.

As her body relaxed, Marcus pressed a final light kiss against the damp curls between her legs and allowed himself to look up at her. Her face was dreamy and slack with pleasure, her smile slightly stunned.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, and Abby exhaled a little gasp of incredulous laughter.

“Get up here, you idiot,” she said. “ _God_.”

She all but dragged him upwards, and Marcus’ knees protested slightly at the ordeal he’d just put them through, but Abby was kissing him wildly and to hell with his knees, anyway. She must be able to taste herself on his tongue, and the thought that she didn’t care or perhaps even _liked_ it was enough to remind Marcus very emphatically of his own current state. He groaned into her mouth, and Abby broke away, grinning.

“Take your damn clothes off, Marcus,” she said, and whether as inducement or demonstration, she stood up and deftly unhooked her bra, letting it drop to the floor beside her, standing finally naked before him with an eyebrow cocked challengingly.

Marcus removed his own jeans and underwear with almost indecent haste, cursing every second he was forced by necessity to drag his gaze away from Abby’s breathtakingly beautiful body; her dark eyes, the curve of her hips, her slender, supple legs, her dusky rose coloured nipples, stiff and tempting, begging to be kissed...

A faint blush spread across her cheeks as she swept her eyes over his body once he was bared to her. Marcus didn’t allow himself to feel self conscious – let her know what she was getting. If he was really what she wanted, then she could look all night if the fancy took her. At least he was certain he wouldn’t be a disappointment in one regard; he was pretty damn sure he’d never been so hard in his life.

But Abby clearly had more on her mind than looking. She picked up his shirt and laid it out on the floor over the thick covering of hay, obviously taking her cue from his earlier action. The material wasn’t as good as a blanket might have been, but it was enough that they wouldn’t have to lie on the hay and get scratched all to hell.

As she sat down and sprawled out as much as was possible, propping herself up on one elbow with a smile, Marcus suddenly felt a little pang of regret – she deserved more than this. She deserved silk sheets and candlelight and feather pillows, not the floor of a barn and a man who had been alone so long he could hardly stop his hands from shaking as he touched her.

But he was what she _wanted_ , he reminded himself. Maybe not in the way he wanted her, maybe not forever...but for now. And by God he’d rather walk out into that storm buck-naked than say no to her.

The thunder was right overhead as he came to her, but Abby no longer seemed to hear it as Marcus wrapped his arms around her, as he kissed her breasts, as he ran gentle hands over every inch of her body. He was so ready for her – God he had been ready for her his whole life – and when she hitched her legs around his hips, rocking up to meet him, he pushed inside, as gently as he could.

Abby clutched at his shoulders, gazing up into his eyes with a look that made his heart turn over in his chest. “Marcus,” she breathed. There was no humour in her voice now, only a dazed, dreamy pleasure. “Oh Marcus...”

He leaned down and kissed her, knowing even as he did it that he was lost. God, he had never wanted another woman the way he wanted her. Never. Marcus realised that since the day Abby Griffin had burst into his dull, lonely life, all he had wanted to do was to be near her, be _with_ her. Every sharp word they had exchanged in those early days, every ounce of frustration he had felt, every glare they had given each other, had been nothing more than foolish pride on his part, trying to act as though she wasn’t the most beautiful, astonishing, charming, irresistible woman he had ever met. Trying to hide the plain truth from Abby and from himself; the truth that he was falling hard for her, had been since the first time he saw her smile.

He had been alone for so long, and he had been used to it, even convinced himself that he liked things that way. And now she was in his arms, and he was _inside_ her, and he knew that he never wanted anything but this for the rest of his life.

_Oh Abby, what have you done to me?_

“Marcus...” she gasped, squirming in his arms. “Honey, _please_...please, I need...”

He groaned at the sound of her voice, and rolled his hips – sliding out and in, just a little, a surge of pleasure. It was good, _so_ good, better even than he had imagined as he started to make love to her slowly, reverently, and then picking up speed, chasing each hot pulse of heaven as he thrust into her.

She was tight and wet and perfect around him, but she was still too far away, he needed her _close,_ so he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up onto his lap, rocking back so they were sitting upright. The change of angle drove his swollen cock fully inside her, achingly deep. Abby’s head arched back a little, her mouth falling open into a soft moan of bliss.

“Oh God,” she said softly. “Oh my God...”

He waited for as many seconds as he could bear, to give her time to readjust, and then when he was sure he’d go mad if he stayed still a moment longer, Marcus thrust his hips gently upwards.

Abby let out a soft, breathy whimper; a deliciously feminine sound. “Yes...” she breathed. “Oh yes, honey, like that, that’s so good...”

They lost what little restraint they’d had after that.

Abby moved on top of him, rising and falling, her hair falling wild around her face as she kissed him again and again. Marcus clasped her tightly to him, thrusting into her as much as their range of motion would allow, every stroke so overwhelmingly pleasurable he could hardly stand it, could hardly believe that anything could feel this good, this _right._

It was Abby. It had always been Abby, it would always be Abby. Everything was her, and she was _everything._

Thunder rolled outside, a sound as big as the sky itself, swallowing up her soft, lilting cries and his own moans as they moved together, not making love any more but _fucking_ urgently, their bodies dewy with sweat, panting and clutching at each other, losing themselves to sensation. Marcus never wanted this to end, even as every muscle and sinew of his body trembled with need for release, even as their panting breaths became sharp and desperate, their rhythm frantic...

Abby came first, only moments before he did. He felt her spasm around him, a soft cry falling from her lips, and as convulsions of bliss wracked her body Marcus felt his own pleasure swelling to a crescendo and he spent into her with a rough groan, crushing her tightly to his chest as they rode out the storm together.

The dozed a little, afterwards, wrapped around each other on his spread out shirt. When Marcus drifted back into himself, wakened perhaps by the cessation of noise that meant the tail end of the rain was past, his first thought was that every bone in his body was going to ache like hell tomorrow.

His second thought was simply: Abby.

Her eyes were closed, her lashes a little flutter of black against her cheek. His arm was wrapped around her and he could feel the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed, slow and deep. There were little straws of hay caught in the wild tangle of her hair, and Marcus thought:

_God help me, I think I’m in love with you._

He must have made some sign as the thought hit him like a blow to the chest; perhaps his body stiffened or his breath caught, because Abby made an interrogative little sound.

“What is it?” she said drowsily.

“Nothing, I...nothing. I think the rain’s stopped.”

“Oh well, we’d better get going then,” said Abby, making absolutely no move to get up, instead snuggling closer into his embrace. The soft friction of her warm, squirming little body in all the right places made a certain part of his own body start to stir again, and Abby pulled back a little to grin up at him, her eyes finally open. “Not really what I meant,” she said playfully, “but I’m not complaining.” She tilted her head up to capture his lips in a long, lingering kiss. Marcus returned it with a passionate fervour, half afraid that if he stopped the truth would spill from his mouth and he would be powerless to stop it.

By the time they broke apart, he was already half hard again, and Abby laughed, a soft, joyful sound.

“God Marcus, are you always this...energetic?”

_Only around you._

In truth, he was not even close to being ready to go a second round, but Abby’s delighted surprise at the easy response of his body was a damn good ego boost, not to mention an incredible turn-on in of itself. To hell with the fact that he was over forty and well past the days of youthful virility – Marcus had the woman he loved wrapped naked and willing in his arms, and he still wanted very _very_ badly to roll her over, pin her down and show her just how much he wanted her. Every day for the rest of his life, and twice on Tuesdays.

Instead, he detached himself gently from her embrace and scrambled to his feet, reaching for the nearest item of clothing that Abby wasn’t currently sitting on.

“We should head back,” he said. “They’ll be worrying about us.” Abby looked so immediately dejected that he knelt back down, took her face in his hands and kissed her again tenderly. It was terribly addictive, kissing Abby Griffin. A man could get used to it.

“We can’t stay here forever,” he said, and smiled even though his heart was halfway to breaking at the truth of his words.

Abby sighed. “You’re right,” she said, as though she too were talking herself into it. “The storm’s passed. We should go back home.”

They were mostly silent as they dressed again in clothes that were now mostly dry, perhaps both too conscious now of the moment having passed, perhaps both lost in thought for what this might mean. But when they left the barn, stepping out into the fading afternoon light and breathing in the damp smell of freshly fallen rain, Marcus couldn’t help but feel a little flicker of hope light in his chest as they headed back towards Arkadia.

Home. She’d called it home.

 

* * *

 


End file.
